


Reason

by Mike_Remington_Hanson



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23104789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_Remington_Hanson/pseuds/Mike_Remington_Hanson
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Reason

The first time is a shock.

The blade of his katana sticking out of your chest, slick with your own blood. _A backstabbing knife through the heart._ It's so fucking _bizarre,_ you'd laugh if you didn't feel so goddamn numb.

His words ring cold in your ear. He speaks them with a dangerous kind of vehemence. _Passion,_ though none of it's meant for _you._

The thing is, you'd thought you were the only one who'd changed.

You never realized that _he_ did too.

  


* * *

  


When you wake, it is to the sight of a dark gray sky. The earth is dry against your back. You think you might be dead, but your chest hurts — this biting, tearing thing that makes you want to gouge out your eyes, tear out your own heart, just so you can make this fucking _stop._

Didn't someone once say that pain meant you were still alive?

You sit up, press your hand to your throbbing flesh. You expect to see blood on your fingers, but they come off dry. And gray.

 _Everything_ is gray here. The clouds. The trees. The grass. Your body.

Your wound has vanished. You can't find a heartbeat within your breast. But there is pain. Waves and waves of it.

Beside you, the running river bleeds red, red, red.

  


* * *

  


The second time is of your own will.

This is what you'd like to think, when you feel the vines snap from your back, when your breath comes harder and faster through your cracked lips.

Deep down, you know, this is nothing but an illusion of control.

Hashirama is there, behind you, above you. A mockery of what he once was, but he's still _there,_ always in your veins, your heart, your mind.

You have never been able to escape him.

(You never _want_ to.)

And as life leaves you, you think of how he'd sustained you all these years, long after he was already gone.

  


* * *

  


When you wake, the world is awash with color.

Only, everything is still. No hint of a breeze. No sound from the forest. The clouds, unchanging. The river, motionless. Stuck in a snapshot of life and you're the only thing capable of moving.

Your heart hurts with a blinding emptiness.

_(He isn't here.)_

You sit by the riverbank and wait.

Somehow, the wait feels unbearably long.

  


* * *

  


The third time, he is by your side.

You speak of your mistakes. He speaks of his. Grief and agony and regret on repeat. Unvoiced apologies and no more time.

You have never felt so tired. You know that you're about to die, and once more, he will be there, watching you leave.

But for the first time, he will die with you.

You think you could live with that.

So you take a breath. And you let go.

  


* * *

  


When you wake, he is still there.

He is — as you are — in the body of a child, in those ridiculous clothes, with that ridiculous hair. His grin is sun-bright. "Hey," is the first thing he says. It is a word loaded with affection and meaning. It frightens you as much as it pleases you.

Around you, the world teems with life. The rustle of the leaves. The sounds of the forest. The flow of the river. The rhythm of his breaths. You don't want any of it to ever stop.

Hashirama's smile falls from his face. The deep brown lakes of his eyes are filled with concern. His are tentative fingers against your cheek. "Madara, are you alright?"

And you think, _Yes._ Think, _No._ Think, _I've waited too goddamn long for you, and now you're **here,** you're **with** me, you're **alive** —_

There is an ache in your chest. This crushing, overwhelming thing that makes you wanna laugh and cry and scream all at once. But all you can manage — in a voice too quiet — is, "This is where I'd be."

Hashirama's eyebrows scrunch in apparent confusion. "Huh?"

"This is where I'd wake up… when I died."

He reaches over, plucks a stray leaf from your hair. "Why?" he asks, though his eyes are bright and knowing, and his smile, fond.

"Because this is where we began."

_("Because here — with you — I was truly happy.")_

Hashirama laughs — this loud, loud thing that washes over you like a warm, cleansing wave. He takes your hand and leans in close, so damn _close,_ you're convinced you can feel the crazy thump of your heart's beat.

"Well," he says, holding your gaze with eyes that are bright and earnest and so, so _alive._ "I think we can begin again."


End file.
